


Often Enough

by AnotherLoser



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Eating Disorders, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 05:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10353555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherLoser/pseuds/AnotherLoser
Summary: “You eat already?”Silence for a moment as Michael finishes the line he was reading.  “Yeah.”





	

“You eat already?”  
Silence for a moment as Michael finishes the line he was reading. “Yeah.”

He lied.

He lied often, sometimes absently. Sometimes intentionally, depending on the topic.

He lied about what happened in his foster home. The one he stayed in by himself while Lincoln was in juvie for the first time. Lincoln didn’t need to know. Didn’t need to worry. That was the first thought with most of Michael’s lies; Lincoln not needed to be burdened by someone else’s troubles on top of his own. They had a lot of trouble in their lives. Lincoln was his legal guardian, his caretaker for years even before then. If Michael acted out it would be blamed on his brother. Lincoln caused enough trouble for both of them sometimes. Throughout the years he’s dealt drugs, taken them, binge drank, gotten in fights with anyone ranging from complete strangers to his own bosses- and interestingly enough, despite how much he’s done and how many times he’d been arrested for it he has really only been caught for a handful of things. In and out of prison, yes, but when sentences ranged from six months to two years and he had still managed to gain guardianship of his younger brother- what all he did and how much time he spent behind bars really wasn’t proportional. Michael was glad for that much.

Sometimes he was angry for it, bitterly thinking that maybe if he didn’t get away with all he did then he wouldn’t do it anymore. He knew his brother too well to believe that. He loved him too much to truly wish for it.

He also knew why Lincoln did it. He could assume anyway, put together pieces with reasoning on top of what he witnessed.  
He was rightfully angry with the world for the hand he had been dealt. He was under pressure and needed outlets. Escapes. Income. Everything on his list of crimes had a reason and with that knowledge Michael never stayed mad. Not when aware as he was. Not when knowing there were things Lincoln didn’t tell him; just as he kept his problems to himself he saw his brother try to do the same even if he wasn’t as good at it.  
Lincoln was an awful liar. Most of the time Michael didn’t pry. Often when he did they would argue, and so his more invasive or pesky questions became less frequent over the years as acceptance took their place.

While Lincoln was trying to control himself enough to hold down a job and pay the bills for them both Michael was working part time after school to help, maintaining his grades almost obsessively, doing his best to take care of their apartment, working through every day with a list of reminders in his head to try and be more normal. To try and keep his head level.

Before that Lincoln was the one with part time work when he wasn’t acting out in rebellion. Back then they were both in foster care. Michael only had to worry about his brother, making sure they weren’t separated, trying to make sure the families they were placed with were happy and not too hard on his brother. Michael lied back then too. By then he was already hiding his LLI, pretending to be normal if he could. Pretending that the first home was fine and there was nothing about him that could be a problem. Everything was fine. He was okay.

He hadn’t yet understood Lincoln’s reasons but he also had still been more idolizing of the older and so Michael remembers distinctly all of the times he spoke highly of him to the parents temporarily caring for them. Covering for him with no idea his reasons, making them feel sorry for him while he was late for dinner so that he might avoid punishment.

He lied often back then too, he supposed.  
He remembers not wanting dinner when Lincoln was late. He still ate back then regardless, quietly, unknowingly letting it be known how much he worried at a young age.

-

Lincoln sits next to him on the old couch of his apartment, the tv playing an old rerun movie and the plate of food in his hands entirely distracting Michael from the screen. He tries to pay attention. They’ve seen the movie before a handful of times, he knows what happens, but this is what they did when he was visiting from college; they watch movies, catch up, sometimes fall asleep on the couch together and generally do little more than enjoy each other’s company again.  
Michael was awfully different now from when he was last living here- to everyone but Lincoln at least, and so he still enjoys their weekends together. He was always more comfortable with his brother than anyone else. He got to see Michael. In high school no one noticed him and he didn’t have the courage to step into a spotlight. Now though he’s learned how to handle people better, how to calmly interact even if panicked on the inside. Most of the time he pulled it all off perfectly. Still, coming home meant being himself. Secretive all the same, but himself.

He arrived while Lincoln was at work, still having a key for just such occasion or any sort of emergency. Lincoln wasn’t organized enough to call his bluff about having already eaten while waiting.

Michael didn’t often think on what he does. Sometimes he did, but he now had more work hours and more school to do and a social life as it seems and there wasn’t much room left for himself. It was all too easy to skip meals thoughtlessly. He used to put more effort into it. Now his effort was in reminding himself to eat- or sometimes undoing such act.

It hadn’t truly started until he and Lincoln were on their own. He never figured out why. He grew into a near constant state of tiredness. He kept moving through it. One day that tiredness left him ignoring his growling stomach. He remembers that they were in a particularly bad place that week. Likely several in truth but his internal clock wasn’t very accurate. He excused his choice in that Lincoln was the one working rough jobs, he needed more food. Michael was doing nothing more than reading, studying, and cleaning. He didn’t need it.

The cycle repeated.  
Not always, not constantly, but sometimes. Often when not he would wonder if he should.

Just like with his roommate filling their dorm with the smell of hot pizza, Lincoln distracts by eating. Michael feels his own hunger twisting stomach, threatening to make an audible rumble before the hunger becomes nausea.  
Today is the marker of two weeks without any substance other than water and milky coffee he never finishes.

As he remembers this he scratches time at the gym off of his to-do list. He used to workout more regularly before the stretches of starvation became so long.

Lincoln pulls him from his thoughts as he comments on the movie.

Michael takes some time to get to sleep. Such problems were common before but now constant. He lies about that too.

When Lincoln asks about college he will lie again about that; sugar coat it to sound normal and fine. Exhausting as it was, sprinkled with complaints, but leaving out the sleepless nights and one night stands used for distance rather than intimacy.

Michael was, in the end, quite the liar for someone who valued honesty as much as he does. 

-

In truth he had never thought about Lincoln finding out. Not that he remembered anyway, not more than a passing thought if at all.

When it happens it was through what seemed accidental, though when he saw his brother’s face he feels as if something were off about even this- as if he had expected something. As if he were disappointed to find out that he was right. Surprised still but not shocked.

Michael’s hand grips tight the cool porcelain of the toilet rim, his other sticky with saliva and hovering in the air awkwardly.  
It always took some work to make himself vomit. His gag reflex was hard to disturb and his stomach required him to stand up and double over to actually spill it’s contents but it did work. He learned how to make it. No one needed to know that though. Not ever. It wasn’t often to begin with; only when he ate and couldn’t stop regretting it, and when he had the chance go be in a bathroom by himself before the hour he heard it typically takes to digest food was up. Not a common occurrence at all but common enough, he supposed.

His brother stands in the doorway with his hand frozen on the handle, his lips parted when his jaw slackened and that disappointed look on his face. They both are silent. Both debating what todo next, how to proceed and react.

Lincoln holds him. His arms wrap around his torso tight in a way that Michael can’t move his own above the elbow and therefore can’t really hug him back if he wanted to.  
For a long moment he doesn’t move at all. He listens to his brother’s heartbeat, confusion and discomfort warring with how comfortable it always was to be held by the other and perhaps some subconscious relief to be granted it once again.  
Eventually he touches Lincoln’s back with his hands in as close to a hug as he can form, and that was when he heard him whisper. Nothing more than soft questions of why and how long. Michael does not answer.

He wished he could say it hadn’t been long. He wished he could excuse it. He knows that he can’t as so he doesn’t try. Doesn’t bother.

There were a lot of things he didn’t tell his brother. A lot of secrets, a lot of things lightened to be spoken of appropriately instead of deeply. Most every problem he had he kept to himself. This one was no different, as at his core, Michael was a defensive liar, even with his silence in this moment. 


End file.
